


The Shift

by riot3672



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, For a little bit anyway, Insecurity, Love Confessions, Making Love, Making Out, Naked Female Clothed Male, OTP Feels, Pre-Movie(s), Sibling Incest, Teen Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riot3672/pseuds/riot3672
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As teenagers in Sokovia, Wanda has begun to notice the disparity in how much attention people of the other sex give her brother versus herself. In a moment of self-doubt, somehow, it's Pietro who manages to make her feel better. And more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shift

It was funny how eight years on the streets never felt normal. Wanda didn't know what it was -- Pietro had adjusted so well, hardly even mentioned the different way they lived from others they had met in Novi Grad. But she could never forget. Never forget watching their parents die, the two of them huddled under piles of rubble, how they'd come home from pretending to be normal at the protests and rallies only to return to someone else's abandoned house. 

Yet, somehow, she was still concerned with the most vain pursuits of the human condition. Sometimes, girls would scamper up to Pietro and he'd tell her the next morning about how the girl had kissed him or given him oral sex or some other innocuous sexual exchange of the young. She didn't care, that much. They'd shared the special stuff together, still joked about the misguided kiss they'd shared as children, how they used to say they'd get married. Kids' stuff. She just hated how Pietro was growing up, and she wasn't. Boys didn't come up to her and ask her on dates, or to sneak back to their houses to kiss. 

She knew Pietro was beautiful. He wasn't even handsome; he truly was beautiful. His smile could melt hearts, and he held himself with confidence. It made sense he got attention. Even though they were twins, though, she hadn't been told she was beautiful since their parents died. It wasn't like she could expect Pietro to coddle her, so it left her with those boys who never said a word. 

Maybe she really was ugly. Maybe people were too polite to tell her. There had to be a reason this was so difficult. 

She stared at her face in the mirror in the bathroom. Without makeup, everything looked washed out; it wasn't the color of her eyes that came through, but the purple bags under them. She thought she had nice lips, but she could hardly get herself to smile. A permanent affliction. She ran her hand through her hair, not dark enough to be rich, not light enough to pass for honey. Mousy, unnoticeable. Something was off--her forehead, her cheekbones, something that didn't need a description, just off. 

She sighed, pulled off her shirt. She was skinny, but too skinny. Collarbones jutting, slight, breakable looking, even. A guy would be scared to touch her. She unhooked her bra. Her breasts weren't big, not what Pietro would describe with that grin of his. Nipples too small, everything too damn small. She slid out of her pants. Her legs were thin, but not long the way other girls' were. Just...nothing. Nothing of note, nothing to love. 

Finally, she kicked off her panties. She didn't shave into cute designs, her lips were just the tiniest bit too long for a porn star. Her ass wasn't tight, maybe even bony. Like everything else. Pietro had arm muscle, despite being just as starved as her. He could pull it off. She just looked like a tragedy. It was no wonder.

She didn't even realize she was crying until she saw Pietro's face. He hadn't knocked, as usual, but wasn't doing his funny little tap dance to defuse his mistake. They'd been doing it since puberty whenever they walked in on each other naked or masturbating. She waited.

"What's wrong?" Pietro asked instead. "Are you hurt?"

How was she supposed to tell him that it was inside? He'd laugh at her, or worse, lie to her.

"It's nothing," she replied, searching for her clothing. 

"It's not nothing. No one just cries naked. C'mon, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything."

She looked away, tried to wipe the tears away faster than they were flowing.

"Is it because of the power dynamic? I can take my clothes off too. I don't care."

He wrestled out of his shirt, pulled his pants down.

"Pietro, you're not helping!" she snapped. "I just don't want to talk about it."

Still with his boxers halfway off, he approached her, put a hand on her shoulder. "Someone hurt you. Who hurt you? I'll make sure they wish they were never born."

"Everyone! God, Pietro, it's everyone!" She sucked in air. "It's no one. It's me. God, I hate myself. Girls flock to you, but no guy has ever given me a second look! It can't be everyone, so it must be me!"

Pietro's expression softened. "Why would you think no guys like you?"

"Because they don't."

Pietro hesitated. "I know they do."

She shoved his arm off. "Who? Name someone."

One second everything was normal, in equilibrium, real. 

The next, Pietro was kissing her. 

"Me."

He kissed her again.

"I'm the idiot who should've told you years ago."

Another kiss.

"You're so much more than the most beautiful girl I've ever known. You're my best friend, my saving grace, the best part of each day."

Another.

"God, I need to stop talking."

And he smashed his lips against hers, his hands to her neck, into her hair. They pressed into each other. A paper couldn't have fit between them.

She didn't know what happened. She didn't care, really. Because Pietro was perfect. His lips were perfect, his fingers in her hair was perfect, and the way she knew that he was sincere--God, was going mad. This was her brother. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy this.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and they danced the way Mama had taught them as children. She'd never kissed anyone, but Pietro didn't seem to notice. He enveloped her, moaned in her mouth, tightened his grip on her. They seemed to float in ecstasy for hours, until Pietro pulled away. 

"C'mon, I wanna show you something," Pietro said.

He led her hand in hand to the apartment’s bedroom. They both climbed on, Pietro removed his boxers, and he gently pinned her down.

“Something clearly isn’t coming across,” he said. 

He kissed her forehead. “You’re intelligent, thoughtful, perceptive, patient—everything I’m not, everything I strive to be, and I love each second I spent with you.” He kissed her lips. “I love your soft, perfect lips. I’ve been anticipating kissing you for months, I can’t imagine kissing anyone else.” He kissed her throat, and she gasped. “I was gonna say I love your vulnerability, but I love that too.” He trailed his hands down her sides, rested on her hips while he kissed her breasts. “I love your perky breasts. I love how your body fits together. I love how I can’t find it in a magazine, and how I can look at it knowing it’s our little secret.” He kissed just below her navel. She shivered. “I love your soft skin.” He kissed her mound, her thigh, her knee. “I love each and every part of you.” 

No one had ever told her this before. No one had ever—even if it was…God, no one had ever…

He trailed back up so they were making eye contact. There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “I love you,” he said, cupping her face. “And…I’m terrified for you to say something.”

The tears hadn’t stopped flowing, and she gave him a salty kiss in response. She felt his tense shoulders relax, his grip to loosen on her body. He pulled away, started kissing her neck again.

“What’re we doing?” she whispered.

“Everything I want to say sounds corny as shit,” he replied.

She chuckled. “I love you too.”

He kissed her and pulled his boxers off, springing free an erection she hadn’t even noticed. He lifted away, rustled through his bag strewn on the bed, and pulled out a condom wrapper and lubricant. 

“I have a secret to tell you,” Pietro said. Wanda leaned in, and he whispered, “I’ve never used this stuff before. Watch my back, yeah?”

Wanda smiled. “Of course, brother.”

He slid on the condom and applied the lube. “Let’s not call each other brother and sister for a while.”

He smiled, brought his lips back to her. They rolled over, but settled with him on top again. The comforter was already warm under them, she was beginning to get used to Pietro being so close. It was so strange seeing every detail on him that she hadn’t noticed before—the individual hairs of his eyebrows, the exact shade of blue of his eyes, even the pores of his skin. 

“Tell me if I’m going too fast or it hurts,” Pietro said.

He took her hand, kissed her shoulder, and inched his way into her. He did go slow, but it did hurt. Less than she thought, but she imagined the lube—both his and hers—was helping. She inhaled sharply, and he stopped.

“Okay?” he asked.

She squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

He slid every inch into her. There was a beat of stillness when he was fully inside her, where he rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breath tickling her shoulder. 

“Do you like this as much as me?” he asked. “It feels cosmic somehow.”

“Like were were never meant to separate,” she mumbled.

He lifted his forehead, they made eye contact. “Yeah. Like we were meant to never separate.”

He thrusted softly at first, gradually working up to something she could feel. She found herself squeezing her legs against his, and Jesus, something went from fairytale to mind-boggling. They grew sweaty together, breath ragged together, little gasps and moans escaping without consent from either party. 

She round herself up quick, and Pietro broke a hair too quick, Wanda coming right after him. 

They went limp, and made eye contact with the ecstasy fading.

They burst out laughing.  Kissed.

“I love you, Wanda,” he said after they separated. “I—I guess I didn’t tell you—”

“I know why you didn’t. It’s the same reason I didn’t, why I pretended I wasn’t jealous of all those girls.”

“Don’t worry about them. Nothing can compare.”

He wiped away a tear. “Do you mean it?”

He kissed away another. “Every word.”

“God, Pietro, what’s wrong with us? We’re twins. We can’t—”

Pietro frowned. “Why not? Who’s going to stop us?”

“Incest is illegal.”

“Squatting is illegal too. Since when do we care?”

“Mom and Dad…”

“Are gone. There is only one person who’s going to stop us from doing this.”

“Who?”

“You. If you don’t want to try this out…”

Wanda looked just beyond her brother. It had all come so fast. Fifteen minutes ago, she had been lamenting being unloved, and now she was lying in bed next to her brother, having given him her first kiss and her virginity. She’d always heard how young love was blind, and what on earth would she do if she and Pietro broke up? He was her everything. She couldn’t live without him.

She couldn’t live without him.

She looked up at him. Maybe she did love him like that. Like a brother, like a lover, like a best friend. Maybe it…wasn’t doomed.

“I want to,” she finally said.

They kissed one last time. She was beginning to recognize his taste.

“Now, no more crying naked, okay? Unless you have a really good reason, like you sliced open your leg in the shower. That’s okay.”

She grinned. “Don’t,” she punched his shoulder, “tell me what to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to the Tumblr prompt "Person A of your OTP is having negative thoughts about their body and Person B walks in on them looking at themselves naked, on the verge of breaking down. B tries to calm A down and tells them they’re beautiful, but A isn’t having it. B then proceeds to take A to their bed. B starts to slowly trail kisses on A’s body, saying a reason why A is perfect with each one. When A still doesn’t believe B, B takes things a step further. B ends up making love to A. With each touch of A’s body, B praises and worships and does nothing but say how beautiful A is until A is sobbing in pleasure and love." 
> 
> I...hope I did it well? Idk man.


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